


Man of Many Words

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 03:02:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim finally gets a clue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man of Many Words

**Author's Note:**

> My first Slash Fan Fiction.... All my thanks go to Iroshi for 

## Man of Many Words

by Mareen

Author's webpage: <http://www.fortunecity.de/lindenpark/vogelweide/216/Index.html>

Author's disclaimer: Owned by PetFly, not me. I don't make any money out of this. 

pointing out in-character and plot development problems, grammar mistakes, orthography etc. etc. etc....And in spite of all the mistakes, she still liked the story. Thanks so much. :-) Well, and the beer bottle...it ends up on the ground. You know what I mean. *g* 

* * *

I have always been a very straight kind of guy. 

Straight forward to myself and others and...well, straight...like "straight" as in "sexually straight". 

I mean, hell, I was married and all that. I _like_ women. I like being with them. I like spending my time with them, talking...and having sex. 

And then, one day, there's this guy. This _strange_ guy. 

With long hair, strange clothes, an earring and a piercing and the strange behaviour. Mr. "I try all alternative lifestyles I can get my hands on". 

And he takes over my life. 

He's moving into my loft, he's becoming my partner and my friend...there's hardly any time I _don't_ spend with him. And I like it. I really do. Because he may be strange, but he's a wonderful person. 

I've hardly met anyone as nice and caring as him, and if he were a woman, I'd have made a pass at him long ago, because...well, he's perfect. Or maybe I just think of him as being perfect. 

But he's a guy, so I have always pushed the very thought away. Something like _that_ has never happened to me and it wasn't ever supposed to. 

I'm a forty-three year old cop, for heaven's sake! I was in the army! And I never fucking intended to walk in the Gay Proud Parade! 

But when I look at him...all I can do is just that. _Look_. I don't want to but I can't take my eyes off him. I can't make myself stop touching him or calling him nicknames...I feel a need to do it. Coming as near to him as possible without crossing the invisible line. 

But the need... 

I can't remember feeling a need like that ever before. 

The need to touch him more than I already do. The need to take him into my arms and kiss him. The need...to just tell him. 

But what am I supposed to tell him? 

I can't even _think_ the word. 

I can't think it and I can't say it. I've never been a man of many words. I am not a big talker. And besides that, saying or even thinking it, would mean accepting it and I'm not sure I am ready for that yet. Hell, it took me three damn years to even become _aware_ that there's more. And even that required the help of an old friend. 

One day, a few weeks ago now, I got this invitation to go to my High School Reunion. 25 years out of school. I felt really old when I read that and I didn't really want to go. 

High School Reunions. 

At first they seem like a good thing. Meet old friends and all that. But after a while you become aware that you have nothing in common with these people anymore...and maybe never had. And then it gets depressing, as always when you lose your illusions. 

So, I wasn't exactly interested in going there. 

But, as always, Blair had different thoughts about it. 

"You should go, Jim," he told me. "It'll be fun. I'd really like to meet the people you went to school with." 

Yeah. _He_ wanted to meet them. We hadn't even talked about him coming with me, if I went, but he was sure he would go. So, is this a strange relationship or isn't it? 

So we went to my High School Reunion and I introduced Mr. Blair Sandburg, anthropologist, room-mate, friend and partner, to all of my high school friends and we talked and I was somehow even enjoying myself, because Blair was in his usual shiny mood and we laughed a lot. 

We were standing together with a few other people and shared stories and Blair and I were standing next to each other, as always. I touched him now and then, as I always do, without even thinking about it. I touched his back and his arm or his shoulder, unconsciously listening to his heartbeat that's so much like an old friend now, always there, calming me somehow. 

Blair went away then, to get us something to drink and suddenly one of my old friends, Sean, turned towards me and said, "Well, Jim, how long have you two been together?" 

And I frowned and answered, "What do you mean, 'together'?" 

He looked at me, obviously rather surprised. "I mean, you know, _together_. A couple." 

"We aren't a couple. Just friends." 

Everyone in the little group was looking at me then and all of them seemed to be surprised at what I said. And I was surprised, too, because now I was starting to wonder: what these people saw, what I hadn't seen, what I hadn't recognized. 

Suddenly my head was spinning and when Blair came back and smiled and wanted to give me my drink, I excused myself and went into the washroom. 

I was standing there for what seemed to be an eternity, looking into my own face in the mirror. And over and over again, I was asking myself how I could possibly miss it. How I could not _see_ it. How I managed to live with that aching I suddenly felt, without becoming aware of it or understand the meaning behind it or without doing anything about it. 

How could I have ever been so stupid? 

Was I that afraid? Am I still that afraid? Because I just can't even _think_ the word. 

Sean came into the washroom then and for a while just watched me washing my hands, something I did as if it was the most important thing in the world. 

"I'm sorry, Jim," he said at last. "I didn't want to embarrass you. You two were just--" 

"It's okay, Sean", I stopped him. "Never mind." 

I left him standing there unable to meet his eyes, and went back to the others. But for the rest of the evening, all I could think about was what Sean, and everyone else, had thought about Blair and me. 

It is strange...but Sean helped me. He helped me recognize myself at last. It was like waking up from a dream after a long time of sleeping. For so long, I've defined myself as...you know... 

And I somehow just didn't realize the change because it didn't fit into that definition of myself, of Jim Ellison. I was so blind. And he helped me to open my eyes about myself at last. With a single sentence. 

I became aware of these things at my High School Reunion, while everyone around me was enjoying themselves. They were enjoying themselves and I was about to redefine myself as a human being. 

But telling Blair about all that was a totally different thing. 

Blair was giving me curious glances now and then that evening, because I was even more quiet than usual. But I refused to tell him what had happened while he was gone. And I've been playing that game for weeks now, since that High School Reunion, because I didn't know then how to tell him, and I still don't know now. 

There are so many things to think over. So many things. How can anything be so easy and so hard at the same time? 

I mean, it's just three damn words, isn't it? 

Three damn words. 

And I can say two of them, but the last one, the one in the middle, that is the really hard thing. 

Because I'm a guy and he's a guy and he's my best friend and I don't want to lose him. 

But on the other hand, I don't know if I can go on living like this any longer, now that I know. With this aching and this need. The longing. And the uncertainty. 

So I'm sitting here in the dark today, thinking, drinking my beer, waiting for him to come home. And I don't know what to tell him or how to tell him, because, as you know, I'm not a man of many words, especially when it comes to emotions. 

I can hear him coming, long before the door opens. I'd recognize the beating of his heart between thousands. 

I know I surprise him when he comes in because the beating of his heart becomes faster for just a second, when he turns on the light and sees me sitting there on the sofa, the beer in my hand, like a ghost. 

"Jim!" he says after a moment, "Why are you sitting in the dark?" 

"I'm sorry," I say. "Didn't mean to frighten you." 

He gives me a questioning look because he knows me too well. It's just not _me_ to sit like that, obviously brooding about something. But maybe he sees something in my face that lets him drop the subject for now, probably planning to bring it back up later. 

He just smiles at me and says nothing about it. 

"It's okay. I brought something to eat. Or did you already--" 

I startle him when I suddenly stand up and cross the room to stop right in front him. It takes me only a few steps. 

I am taller than he is, so I look down at him, the beer still in my hands, holding it with too much strength, because I am so nervous I can even hear the rushing of my own blood in my ears. 

I look down at him and he looks up and his expression is somehow startled and curious...and then there is something in them I can't exactly name. 

He is waiting for me to say something and I open my mouth and close it again, unable to say anything. Instead I put the beer bottle I'm still holding on the ground, somehow playing for time. 

Not a man of many words. 

Yes, that's me. 

Then I am standing here and looking down at him again and I become even more nervous because I just can't make myself say the word. I still can't even _think_ it, for heaven's sake, because it's so damn unlike Jim Ellison. 

But I bend down and show him because I can't stop myself any longer. 

I can feel myself trembling out of nervousness when I kiss him, but the trembling fades because his arms are going around my neck and he is pulling me nearer to his body and I know now. 

I know now. 

And I'm sure Blair will make me able to not only think it, but say it too, one day--the word--whether I'm a man of many words or not. 

Blair is doing these things to me. 

And I am grateful. 

* * *

End Man of Many Words. 


End file.
